But she’s learning that sometimes my walls go up and there’s nothing she can do but wait for me to let her back in.
The first updatefrom Sentinel comes at the end of week one. Two former students with similar stories. Both complained through official channels. Both were silenced with NDAs.
By week two, they’ve found four more. Six women total. Three formal complaints buried by the university. Email evidence from two victims showing Kendrick’s grooming patterns. A faculty member who suspected but stayed quiet because tenure matters more than doing the right thing.
The parallels to Bree’s story are sickening. The special attention. The isolation from othermentors. The boundary violations disguised as mentorship. The retaliation when women tried to escape.
He’s been doing this for over a decade.
The university knew and did nothing.
Larissa coordinates with Tanner and Associates, an employment law firm that specializes in Title IX cases. They file coordinated complaints on behalf of the victims willing to go on record. They send legal threat letters to Columbia’s General Counsel outlining the pattern and institutional liability.
I apply pressure where I can. My foundation was planning education grants that Columbia wanted. Suddenly those grants are under review. Donors who trust my judgment start asking questions about the university’s oversight.
It’s ugly. The kind of power play I promised myself I’d never use again after the blackmail incident with Dom.
But this is different. This isn’t about controlling someone’s love life out of jealousy and unprocessed trauma. This is about stopping a predator.
Week three.
Three weeks of Sentinel’s investigators digging through Columbia’s records. Three weeks of former students being quietly contacted. Three weeks of building a case that will bring a predator down.
Three weeks of lying to Bree’s face.
We’ve been... surprisingly good. Opening up about Kendrick got her out of her funk. She no longer seems distracted and distant. She comes to the penthouse every night. Sleeps in my bed. Laughs at my terrible jokes and makes her own. Leaves her toothbrush in my bathroom like it belongs there.
Which it does.
She belongs with me.
Still... every time she asks if I’m okay, I lie. Every time she catches me checking my phone, I tell her it’s work. Every time she falls asleep in my arms after sex and I lie awake thinking about the investigation, I’m betraying the trust she’s placed in me.
I tell myself it’s worth it. That she’ll understand when it’s over. That protecting her is more important than respecting her explicit wishes.
I tell myself a lot of things.
Thursday morning of week three, Larissa walks into my office.
“It’s done,” she says. “Columbia revoked Kendrick’s tenure yesterday. Immediate termination for cause. Settlement agreements with known victims are being negotiated. They’re releasing a public statement about zero tolerance policies.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“The Chronicle of Higher Education is also running a story tomorrow.” She sets a printed draft on my desk. “Background only. Your name won’t appear. Nor anyone linked to you.” By that she means Bree.
I look at the headline. “Prominent Professor Fired After Pattern of Harassment Uncovered.”
It’s over.
The fucker is finished.
He’ll never teach again.
Never groom another student.
Never destroy another career.
Idid that.
